


fall over

by bruises



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Chronic Pain, Comfort, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings, Fluff, Forehead Touching, Hair Dyeing, Hotels, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, Light Angst, M/M, Morning Wood, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Touching, Unrequited Love, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruises/pseuds/bruises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wants Seth to pay attention to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean flops down on the bed, letting the sheets stick to the sweat on his torso. Strands of wet hair stick to his forehead; it's kind of gross. He tucks his arms under his head and looks up at the light, watching it flicker every now and then.

“Oh, come _on_ , Dean” Seth says, irritated. He walks out of the bathroom and looks right at him. “You could have showered first.”

He shrugs. “I’ll shower in the morning.”

“You stink,” Seth says plainly. “Get in the shower.”

“Or what?” Dean prompts, bringing himself to sit up.

Seth just rolls his eyes and continues to rub the towel against his damp hair. He sits at the edge of the bed in his sweatpants; nothing more, nothing less. He eyes Dean for a few moments before tossing the towel at him (of course he catches it).

“Alright, I know how to take a hint,” he smirks. With the damp towel in his hands, Dean makes his way to the tiny hotel bathroom. He sees Seth’s ring clothes on the ground in a heap and shakes his head.

He dumps his clothes on top of Seth’s and turns on the shower. After a minute of being under the water, it runs cold and Dean wants to punch Seth in the face. Of course he used all the hot water. His muscles seize up within an instant, so Dean hurries to wash all the grime from his body.

“You could have told me you used all the hot water,” He calls out. Dean throws on an old shirt and his underwear before quickly drying his hair. On his way out, he puts his and Seth’s smelly clothes in the washing machine and turns it on.

“Did you even hear me?” Dean sits back down on the bed and removes the earbud from Seth’s ear.

Seth looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Hmm?

“You use all the hot water,” Dean mumbles. “You could have told me.”

His eyes drift down to Seth’s lips, but he casts them away the second Seth catches him. This happens often; sometimes it's Dean, other times it's Seth. They don't talk about it.

“Oops?” Seth replies, his sarcasm evident. “I’ll let you have the first shower tomorrow morning.”

Dean shrugs; he doesn’t really care about the hot water, it doesn’t matter. He decides to change the topic. “Is there anything on TV tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Seth tells him. He tosses the remote Dean’s way and looks away from him.

There’s nothing on TV at one in the morning. After years of late nights, Dean knows this, but he looks through each channel in hopes of finding the needle in the haystack. He comes up empty, and settles for a cooking show.

He looks up to see the earbuds back in Seth’s ears. He just wants Seth to pay attention to him. He wants Seth to look at him instead of looking at his stupid phone. Dean yanks the earbud out and shuffles closer.

“How about that eight man tag tonight?” He prompts. He has to get a conversation going. “We did a good job out there.”

“We won.” Seth hums as a smile spreads across his face. He takes out the other earbud and tosses the pair on the floor. “We won tonight.”

Dean lies back and turns to face Seth, letting all his weight rest on his side. Seth mimics his actions seamlessly- he rolls over to meet Dean’s gaze. He keeps his eyes focused on Seth’s face, rather than his sweatpants that seem to be sitting low on his hips. Dean finds himself biting the inside of his cheek.

“We did, we won, Seth,” he says. “Another win for the Shield.”

Seth sticks his tongue out playfully. Dean feels teased, he wants to bite it off. “To be fair, we didn’t win the match on our own.”

“But we could have,” Dean interjects. He truly believes that the two of them could take on the world. They could fight everyone in the industry if they wanted to. “The two of us; we could have taken on the other eight guys.”

“I know we could,” Seth tells him. “Maybe one day we will.”

Dean lets the idea slide for now. He lies on his back, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. The moon peeks through the window; neither of them had bothered to close the curtains. Dean looks out at the sky and thinks about nothing and everything at the same time. The cooking show is nothing but background noise now. 

Seth sees him looking out at the night sky, so he pushes himself off of the bed. He gets up and draws the two pieces of fabric across the window, before hitting the light switch. on the wall.

“You going to keep watching this?” Seth asks, standing beside the TV.

Dean pulls the blankets over his body, letting their scratchy warmth engulf him. He shakes his head. “Nope. You can turn it off.”

Seth does as he’s told and returns to the bed. Dean feels him get under the covers, feels cold fingers brush against his limbs. 

“Sorry,” Seth murmurs. Dean wishes he wouldn’t apologize, but he does. He wishes that they would touch more often, but they don’t.

He rolls over to face Seth, almost closing the space between them. The room is pitch black, but he can faintly make out the shape of Seth’s face in front of him. He listens to the soft noises Seth makes as he breathes, it’s cute.

“G’night, Seth,” Dean says, his voice low.

Seth’s breath is warm against Dean’s nose. “Night, Ambrose.”

He’s _Ambrose_ now, not Dean. He’s _Ambrose_ , as if they’re not sharing a bed, as if Seth isn’t mere centimeters away from him. He's _Ambrose_ as if they haven't known each other for years now.

He tells himself that none of it matters. Dean shoves these thoughts aside for the time being, and tries to get some sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up with a jolt. Seth is hard against his thigh with his head asleep on Dean’s pillow. When he pushes himself closer, Dean almost fucking _yelps_. He grits his teeth together as he gets out of the bed and throws on a pair of shorts.

Dean’s phone tells him that it’s only five o’clock. He laces up his shoes anyway and gets the hell out of the hotel room before Seth - _Rollins_ \- even has chance to wake up. He grunts; as if calling him Rollins is going to make this any less personal.

The moon still hangs high in sky, it’s freezing outside. He rubs his hands together has he jogs far away from the hotel, far away from Rollins.

He can’t stop thinking about him. Dean’s been running for almost an hour now, but every step he takes seems to remind him the man he left in the hotel room. He stops at a tree, his chest heaving. Dean brings a hand to his torso to steady himself. He feels Seth’s hand pressed against him, like it had been when Seth shoved him into a wall one night after a show.

Dean remembers their faces being so close, too close. He remember’s Seth’s breath hot against his neck. He remembers Seth humping his goddamn thigh an hour ago. He tries to think of a time when he wasn’t so fucked up over Seth Rollins.

He’s caught off guard when phone vibrates from his pocket; he almost jumps. Dean looks at the caller ID and of course it’s Seth, who else would it be? He puts the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the way his hands shake. Dean bites his tongue as he jogs back to the hotel. He hates that Seth does this to him.

“Where’d you go?” Seth asks. He’s still in bed with the covers pulled up to his chest. His head is still on Dean’s pillow, and it makes his stomach flip.

Dean shrugs, he doesn’t feel like talking, so he keeps his reply short. “Out.”

He turns his a head a little too late, and gets a pillow thrown right at his face.

“Come on, Ambrose,” Seth laughs. “Don’t be short with me.”

_Oh_. Ambrose. Right. Dean turns around and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. _I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care._ He keeps muttering the same thing over and over again, hoping that it will somehow come true.

Most of the time it is true. Most of the time Dean _doesn’t care_ about anyone other than himself. Then he sees Seth and his internal organs just turn to mush and his mouth goes dry.

He spends ten minutes pacing in the small bathroom. Dean looks down at his hands; his knuckles have turned white. He unclenches his fists and pulls his t-shirt off. He’s pulling down his shorts when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dean,” Seth says, his voice low. They’re back to Dean again; he’s having a hard time keeping up. “Are you alright?”

A sigh escapes Dean’s lips as he presses his forehead against the door. “Yeah, I’m fine,” He lies. He’s a mess.

A few seconds pass and he doesn’t get a response. Dean sighs again and steps into the shower, grateful the second the hot water hits his skin. He looks down, watching the water pool at his feet. He forgets about Seth until there’s another knock a the door.

“What now?” He calls out grumpily.

“I need to pee,” Seth tells him, “and you locked the door.”

Great. Dean rolls his eyes and turns the water off. He manages to wrap a towel around his waist before he gets to the door.

Dean swears Seth’s looks him up and down, stopping briefly at his chest, but he tells himself that he’s projecting.

Seth pushes past him and mumbles “thanks,” before closing the door.

“Mhmm,” Dean sighs. He searches through his bag for some clean clothes. He makes a mess, but eventually he finds some underwear and a shirt that doesn’t stink. There’s no way he’s putting on pants if he’s just going to stay in his hotel.

The toilet flushes and Seth walks out, tying his hair into a bun. “No pants; you staying in?”

Dean nods. “They don’t need me today. I can work out tomorrow before our Extreme Rules match.”

“You weren’t working out earlier?” Seth asks. He takes a seat on the chair opposite the bed and begins to rummage through his bag. He comes up empty-handed and looks straight at Dean. “Do you have another shirt?”

“I went for a run,” Dean explains. He knows that Seth will just keep asking until he gets an answer; he never lets things go. He’s the same and he knows it. He finds a singlet at the bottom of his gym bag and tosses it at Seth. “This okay?”

Seth pulls it over his shoulders and Dean swears that he doesn’t lick his lips as he watches.

“Yeah,” Seth nods. He adjusts his sweatpants and crosses his legs on the chair. “Yeah, It’s good. Thanks.”

Dean hums in response. He’s glad that Seth doesn’t ask why he left in the morning - he will eventually but for now, Dean doesn’t have to tell him anything. When he does, Dean won’t know what to do. It’s almost impossible to lie to Seth; they’ve known each other for years and Dean just _can’t do it_.

“You think way too much,” Seth tells him. He tells him as if he can read his mind; Dean’s finds comfort in knowing that he can’t.

“You don’t think enough.” Dean responds; he really doesn’t know what else to say.

Seth scoffs as if he’s offended. “I think _a lot_.”

“Sure you do,” Dean shrugs. He shrugs like he doesn’t care about Seth; he’s trying not to. He looks down at his fingernails and starts picking the sides.

“So, what are you going to do all day?”

Dean looks up at Seth. “No idea. You got plans?”

“Nah,” Seth shakes his head. “Want to order some food?”

Dean nods and rings his fingers together loosely. They’re talking calmly, he likes this. “What’ll it be? I swear, if you say you want spinach on a pizza, I’m going to walk right out of this room.”

He watches as Seth grins; his heart feels like it’s exploding.

“Fine, I’ll get a burger with spinach in it,” Seth counters. He folds his arms across his chest, obviously impressed with himself. He’s such a smug little shit.

Dean’s lying down on the bed with his head upside down. “You’re gross, Seth.”

“Mhmm,” Seth replies, “Whatever you say.”

He wishes they could talk about other things, about them. For now he’ll settle for this; casual back-and-forth conversations about Seth’s stupid spinach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

At half past three, Seth’s phone starts ringing. Dean rolls his eyes as he turns down the TV. He hates Seth’s ringtone; it’s loud and obnoxious like all the music he listens to. He looks up at Seth, watching as his expression turns from puzzled to worried.

“What?” Dean mouths, confused.

“Yeah, alright,” Seth says into his phone, “We’ll be there soon.”

Dean still doesn’t know what’s going on and Seth isn’t giving anything away. “What’s going on?”

A sigh escapes Seth’s lips as he turns to face Dean. “We forgot about our match tonight. That was Roman - we have another eight man tag with him and Cena.”

All Dean can do is roll his eyes again. How could he forget that he had a match tonight? He wipes his hands over his face and sees his championship belt sitting beside his gym bag. It reminds him that he’s _a champion_ and he actually feels ridiculous for forgetting about the house show.

Seth tosses Dean his ring gear, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. “Someone’s eager.”

“I haven’t worked out today,” Seth explains. “I’ll have to do it when we get to the venue.”

“Relax,” Dean shrugs. “You’ve got a couple hours.”

Seth grunts as he pulls on a pair of shoes. “It takes half an hour to get there, Dean.”

“Alright then," He decides, "Get your stuff and let’s go.” Seth’s going to be on edge for the rest of the night, Dean knows this. It’s happened before, only they’d found out about their match _an hour before_ rather than three.

They fight over the car keys for about five minutes. Dean has his hands on the keys, but the second Seth shoves himself against him, he hands them over without a word. They get into the rental car and toss their gear into the backseat.

“Don’t turn on the radio, please,” Dean says. The last thing he needs is to hear more of Seth’s loud music. It’s probably the thing he likes least about Seth.

Seth makes some incoherent noise, but he doesn’t reach to turn on the radio. Dean lets out a breath of air, thankful that they can drive in peace. He feels himself start to get a bit jittery. With little effort, he pushes his seat backward to allow some room to tap his foot.

“We got a strategy for tonight?” Seth asks. He must have noticed Dean’s foot-tapping.

Dean shrugs. “Win?”

Seth shoots him a look that makes his insides melt. He wonders what would happen if Seth did that in the ring.

“Well, yeah, of course we’re going to win. We took them down last night and we’ll do it again, Dean.” Every time Seth says his name it sends shivers down his spine. “Look; we keep Cena in for a minute or two, he tags in one of us, we tag in Roman and go for the triple powerbomb. It’ll be easy - are you even listening to me?”

Dean had gotten distracted by Seth’s arms, of all things. He nods and looks back out at the road in front of them. “Mhmm, triple powerbomb. I heard you.”

They make it to the arena, finally. The two head straight to the locker room that they share with Roman. Seth instantly gets to his pre-show workout while Dean sits on a chair and starts taping his hands.

“Don’t tape them too tight,” Seth says. He eyes Dean as he continues his sit ups.

Before Dean can respond and tell Seth that _he’s not doing it too tight, he’s doing it the way he likes it,_ there’s a knock at the door. It swings open, and Roman walks in with his arms folded across his chest.

“Please don’t do this tomorrow,” He tells them. “We can’t be late for a pay per view.”

Dean and Seth nod in unison. They’d never forget a pay per view, not when they’re doing this well.

“I slept in,” Seth explains. He gets up from the ground and starts with his wall presses.

Dean hums in response. “I just kind of forgot.”

Roman shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “It happens. What’s the plan?”

Before Seth even gets a chance to open his mouth, Dean explains everything to Roman. “See Seth, I  _was_ listening in the car.”

Seth just smirks at him and wipes his face with a towel. Dean isn’t looking at the droplets of sweat forming in Seth’s skin. That’s what he tells himself.

* * *

 

The match goes well. They win because that’s what they do best. On the way back to their locker room, Dean tries his best not to think about the way Seth’s arms wrapped around his waist when the bell rang. It felt nice and he wishes it would happen often, when they’re not in the ring. For now, he’ll take the little affections that he gets.

“We beat them again,” Seth grins. “We fucking won, Dean.”

Dean nods because they’re standing so close and he doesn’t know what else to do. Their foreheads are almost touching and there’s hardly any air between them. They keep ending up like this after matches; Dean loves and hates it at the same time. Seth is doing all the right things and he has no idea.

Roman stands beside them taking his gloves off. Dean thinks that he must be used to their closeness by now, because he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“We did it,” Seth whispers one last time. Dean feels Seth’s breath hot against his cheek and he meets Seth’s eyes. His cheek turns cold once Seth walks away.

Dean’s eyes dart around for a few moments as he tries to make sense of his whereabouts. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that he’s in the locker room again; they all are. He grips onto the chair in front of him to steady himself as he sits down.

Opposite him, Seth high-fives Roman triumphantly. It seems so impersonal to the way they’d shared their win only moments before. Dean tries to unpack the situation and pick out the difference between them, but all he comes up with is years. 

He’s known Seth for at least two years longer than Roman has. Dean manages to convince himself that this is the reason why they’re so close. He can’t afford to fall for Seth anymore than he already has.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! the old title didn't seem to fit the fic anymore, so i decided to change it from 'until it tears you apart' to 'fall over'. this chapter was really fun to write, enjoy!

“Dean!”

His ears instantly prick up at the sound of Seth’s voice. It’s been almost five hours since their match and by some miracle, Dean hasn’t fallen asleep. He gets up from the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, to Seth.

“You decent?” He asks, tapping his fingers against the door.

When he hears Seth hum in response, he opens it slowly and walks into the bathroom. “What’s up?”

“I need you to help me with my hair,” Seth explains.

Dean looks down at the box of bleach-blond dye sitting on the bathroom sink and then back at Seth. “And you couldn’t get a hairdresser to do this because?”

Seth shrugs. “I forgot to book an appointment.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?” Dean asks. He’s dyed hair before. He didn’t do a good job, but he’s done it before.

“Come on, Dean, help me out,” Seth pleads. “We have our Extreme Rules match tomorrow and I’m not going out there with hair like this.”

“You went out there with hair like that tonight,” Dean grins. He remembers their match, and what followed. His brain goes fuzzy for a minute.

Seth rolls his eyes and shoves the box into his hands. Dean almost gasps at the contact. “Just do it, Dean.”

With a smile across his face, Dean fakes a sigh. “Alright, get on the sink.”

Seth needs him to do this. Dean feels wanted and  _needed_ and makes his cheeks to flush a light shade of pink. He avoids making eye contact with Seth, opting to read a small piece of paper with instructions.

“Don’t bother reading that,” Seth says. He yanks the instruction sheet from Dean’s hands and tears it up. “Just mix the two small bottles into the big bottle and shake it.”

Dean wants to make a remark about Seth’s expert opinion, but mixes the two components together in the bigger bottle instead. “This stuff reeks.”

“It’s literally bleach, Dean,” Seth laughs.

Dean shakes the box and a pair of rubber gloves fall out. “Do I need these?”

“Yeah,” Seth nods. “Bleach burns aren’t good.”

He snaps on the gloves and shakes the bottle one last time. “So how am I gonna do this?”

Before he says anything, Seth turns around to look in the mirror. Dean’s eyes drift down, watching the way Seth’s body forms soft curves as he moves. When he looks back up, Seth has all his darker hair tied into a bun.

“Just put it on the roots,” Seth tells him. “Please be careful.”

“I will be,” Dean says.

He knows that Seth would never forgive him if he stuffed this up. Dean feels his tongue poking out from his mouth as he carefully places the dye on top of Seth’s regrowth. His chest accidentally bumps into Seth’s nose a few times. It’s cute, they laugh about it.

Dean puts down the bottle and looks at Seth. “I think I’m done here.”

Seth turns around once more and does a once over of his hair. “You did a good job, thanks.”

“Maybe I should become a hairdresser,” Dean says. He takes of the disgustingly sweaty gloves and throws them in the trash. “You’re meant to leave that in for half an hour - I managed to read that far before you tore up the instructions.”

Seth shrugs. “We didn’t need them, did we?”

“Nope,” Dean replies. He gives his hands a wash and then walks out of the bathroom. “We have a plane to catch to New Jersey soon.”

“Mmm, I know,” Seth tells him. “We don’t have to be at the airport for another couple of hours.”

Dean nods. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up when we have to leave.”

“What? You’re not going to keep me company?” Seth asks, his voice small.

Dean shakes his head once more. As much as he would love to sit up at chat with Seth, he’d much rather catch up on some sleep. It’s only an hour’s trip to New Jersey, but he’s never been able to fall asleep on planes.

He sees Seth on his phone, probably texting someone else. Dean shakes the jealousy from his mind as he pulls the uncomfortable bed sheets over his shoulders and closes his eyes.

* * *

 

“Wakey, wakey sleepy head.”

Seth’s voice wakes Dean up slowly. He feels clear and more alert. He’s ready for the pay per view, despite it being more than twelve hours away. Dean notices Seth’s eyes resting on his lips, but the moment he fully opens his eyes, Seth looks away.

“How’d you hair turn out?” Dean asks, his voice groggy.

Seth smiles at him. “Really good. Maybe I should get you to do my hair from now on, huh?”

“It was a fluke, probably wouldn’t happen again,” Dean chuckles. He stretches his upper body, taking special care with his shoulders.

“I packed everything,” Seth explains. “We’re ready to go.”

Dean wants to call him something ridiculous like  _eager beaver,_ but he doesn’t. Instead, he puts his shoes on and tucks the laces in because he can’t be bothered tying them up.

“Alright, let’s head out,” He says.

They do a once over of the room just to make sure that they haven’t left anything behind. Dean finds one of Seth’s gloves in the corner and flings it at him.

“I packed everything,” Dean mocks. “You forgot your own glove, Seth.”

“Oh no, you got me,” Seth says, his tone light.

The two of them walk outside and it’s  _freezing_. Within seconds, Dean realizes that his t-shirt and jeans isn’t going to suffice.

“Do you have a hoodie in there somewhere?” He asks, pointing to the bag in Seth’s hands.

Seth takes a moment to look through his bag before pulling out one of his hoodies.

“It’s my favourite, don’t lose it.”

He nods and slips it on. The hoodie is warm and it smells like Seth. Dean never wants to take it off. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

Dean gets into the rental car for the last time. It’s an ugly car; he hopes the next one they get isn’t a gross dark green colour. He sits in the driver’s seat and places his hands firmly on the wheel.

“Ready to go?” He asks, looking at Seth.

Seth nods in response and clicks his seat belt into place. Dean hits the gas pedal and they drive away from the hotel, ready to move on to the next city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to let me know what you think in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

Seth steps into the ring first. The three of them had talked about this earlier - Seth would get in there, weaken the other guy, then Dean would come in and Roman would finish them off. It’s clear right away that their plan isn’t going to work.

Dean watches painfully as Seth gets thrown around the ring for a whole five minutes. It’s horrible; he gets put in submission move after submission move and Dean has to watch. He holds his hand out as far as he can and hopes that somehow, Seth will be able to tag him in.

The second their hands meet, Dean jumps over the top rope and starts hitting Orton. He throws punch after punch because Orton hurt Seth. He sees Seth getting to his feet outside the ring, and Roman has to step down to help him. Dean is pissed.

He hooks Orton’s legs, which ultimately ruins the small streak he was on. Hunter drops an elbow right on Dean’s face and everything is a little blurry from then on. He looks up and sees Roman getting their opponents out of the ring, which gives him a moment to catch his breath and sit up.

Seth still isn’t standing on the ring apron, and Dean thinks he hears the steel stairs moving. Before he can turn his head to investigate the noise, he’s pushed into Evolution’s corner. He tries to stand up, but his legs become jelly-like. For a few minutes, Dean completely forgets where he is.

“Dean, Dean, Dean! Kick out, come on,” Seth calls out.

He looks over and sees Seth balancing himself on the ropes with his hand held out. A small wave of relief washes over him because _Seth’s okay_. When he tags Roman instead, he thinks that they might be able to win this.

“Dean,” Seth whispers. “Are you okay?”

He nods slowly, fearing that moving his head to fast will make him pass out. Seth steps back onto the apron, but Dean stays on the ground and tries to breathe. He smirks when he hears people dropping to the mat; Roman’s got this in the bag.

Dean gets to his feet, and the first thing he sees is Seth flying off of the top rope. Seth then pulls him into the ring. Dean follows and tries his best not to mutter something about taking too many risks.

They somehow manage a triple powerbomb, but it’s worthless when Hunter breaks the pin. Dean sees red for the second time that night. He runs over to Orton as fast as he can, and throws him right into the wall.

Seth jumps off the top rope _again_ , but completely misses Orton. Dean looks over and sees him lying in a heap. His stomach churns because Seth ii isn’t moving. Orton wraps an arm around Dean’s neck, but he elbows him in the side and jumps into the ring to help Roman.

Of course Hunter knocks him down and gains the upper hand. He gets Dean out of the ring and throws him right over the announce table. He loses consciousness for a moment or two. When he comes to, Seth’s calling out his name as Randy drives his back into the wall.

Dean’s almost tripping over his feet, but he stands up on the annouce table. He does the stupidest thing he can think of, and launches himself into Orton.

Hunter comes to Orton’s aid, and the four of them end up in the crowd. Dean can’t see Seth anywhere, but it doesn’t matter anyway because he gets pushed down a flight of stairs. He brings his hands to his aching head, and wishes that Roman would hurry up and beat Batista.

Hunter and Orton stalk him down the stairs, and continue dishing out punches. One after the other, they take turns swinging, refusing to give up.

“Dean, move!” Seth calls out.

Dean doesn’t know where Seth is, but he falls somewhere to the left, away from Orton and Hunter. The bell finally fucking rings, and Dean realizes that Seth jumped from the roof to save him.

He frantically pushes Hunter and Orton out of the way to get to Seth. His hands tremble, but he brings them to the sides of Seth’s face.

“Seth?”

Dean watches as Seth scrunches his eyelids together and winces.

“Did we win?” He asks, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, threading his fingers through Seth's sweat-soaked hair, “We won. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Four referees come out and help the pair stand up.

“We can go the rest of the way,” Seth tells them. They’re almost at the medic’s office, but the referees nod and let them walk the rest of the way.

Seth brings his hands to Dean’s face. His hands are so hot against his skin, Dean wonders if he’s about to pass out again.

“Dean - Dean look at me,” Seth says.

Dean complies and makes eye contact. It’s one of the few things he can do right now. He’s propped against a wall with Seth’s hands all over his face, and all he can do is look at him.

“Are you okay?” Seth asks. They’re walking now; Seth’s hands are wrapped around Dean’s waist. He can barely stand up on his own, let alone answer Seth’s question.

Dean’s sitting down now. The room is bright and he can feel Seth sitting beside him.

“Dean,” An unknown voice prompts, “Tell me where you are right now.”

He has to think about that for a moment; he has no goddamn idea where he is. “Uh, New Jersey, maybe?”

Seth is laughing beside him and it makes him feel a little better. He nudges Dean’s side gently, resting his hand against his back.

“I wasn’t the one who tried to fly like five times tonight,” Dean says. He looks at Seth and then back at the medic. “Maybe you should be talking to him.”

“Dean, I’m fine,” Seth tells him. “You were thrown behind an announce table and then down some stairs. You’re the priority right now.”

Dean feels his heart thumping faster because Seth’s touching him and talking about him. It’s almost too much. He sits through the medic’s examination and answers all their questions.

“You’ve got a mild concussion. You should be feeling a bit better in a few hours,” The medic says. “If your shoulder is playing up, I would recommend taping it before you go to bed.”

“Thanks, doc,” Dean nods. He looks towards Seth, feeling a little dazed, and smiles fondly. 

The medic gives Seth a once over and gives him the all clear. Seth gets to his feet first and grabs hold of Dean’s arm. With small steps, the two of them make it to the arena’s car park and look for their car.

“What about Roman, where is he?” Dean asks once they’re back at the hotel.

This hotel is nicer than the one they’d stayed at last night. The walls are painted a lighter colour, and there’s a larger TV in front of the bed.

Seth sits down beside him and starts taping his shoulder. “He’s good; went out for drinks with Jimmy and Jey after the match.”

“Mmm,” Dean hums. “Wish I coulda’ done that.”

“Me too,” Seth says. “That match was awful.”

Dean nods, agreeing. “I’m pretty sure Hunter invented the phrase ‘playing dirty’. Remind me never to get in a ring with him again.”

Seth laughs - eyes crinkled at the corners and mouth wide - it comforts Dean. His head feels terrible but Seth’s ridiculous laugh seems to make everything okay for a moment.

“All done.” Seth’s fingertips trace Dean’s skin, lingering against the edges of the dark blue tape.

He looks up and Seth, and time seems to stop. He wonders if this is it, if it’s finally going to happen. When Seth looks back at him, Dean wants to lean up and kiss that small smile off of his face.

Seth has other ideas, though. He gets up and turns the light off, and Dean hates himself for having hope. He tosses the soft bed sheets over his body, thankful that he can’t see Seth in the dark.

“C’mere,” Seth says.

As he shuffles closer, Dean doesn’t hesitate to let his back lie against Seth’s stomach. Gentle hands snake their way around Dean’s torso. He places his hands on top of Seth’s, and slowly drifts to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to leave me a comment!


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean.” Seth’s voice is soft and quiet and everything that Dean wishes he was. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He's in the back seat and Roman is in the front with Seth. For a moment, Seth’s eyes meet his in the rear-view mirror, but Dean looks away. He pulls his knees tighter against his chest and rests his forehead against the window. Dean settles into the back seat with little effort; he's glad that he he has it all to himself.

“Later,” Is all Dean says, his voice low because he’s hurt and tired. As they continue to drive down the highway, Dean absentmindedly toys with the strings on Seth’s hoodie. He still has it; he’s been wearing it for a couple of days now and it doesn’t smell like Seth anymore.

They pull into the hotel’s parking lot and get out of the car. Dean tugs on the cuffs of the hoodie, hoping that the fabric will warm his hands (it doesn’t). Each step that he takes sends shooting pain up the sides of his body. Dean ignores the concerned looks that he’s getting. He tells himself to shrug the pain off - he should be used to this by now.

When they get into the lobby, Roman meets up with Breeze. Dean stands by the elevator, watching as they talk. Every now and then, Tyler will touch Roman and he’ll smile. They’ve been together for like, two years, and they’re so _comfortable_ with each other. Dean kind of envies them.

“We’re gonna room together,” Roman says as he passes Dean. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Dean nods and smiles at Tyler as he follows Roman into the elevator. Dean continues to stand there by his bags while Seth gets them a room. A few minutes later, Seth walks towards him and they step into the elevator.

“What floor are we on?” Dean asks.

“Three,” Seth replies, pushing the button for the third floor.

He doesn't hesitate to take Dean’s bags as soon as they step out of the elevator. Dean frowns as he watches Seth struggle to carry all the bags down the hall.

“I can take my bags,” Dean says, reminding him.

“I know,” Seth replies. “I was just helping you out. Do you want them back?”

Dean shakes his head. “We’re almost there, right?”

Seth smirks and rolls his eyes; it makes Dean feel a little better about losing his title belt. He stays close to Seth and continues to ignore the way his body aches when he moves. When they stop in front of their room, Seth lets out a sigh and looks at Dean.

“The key’s in my pocket, can you open the door?” He asks.

Dean hums. “Left or right?”

“Left,” Seth tells him. “Sorry, my hands are kind of full.”

Dean sucks in a breath and gets the from Seth’s pocket like it’s no big deal. He keeps telling himself that it doesn’t mean anything as he turns the key in the lock and opens the door. He follows Seth inside, handing him the key once their bags are on the ground.

“I can’t believe they made me defend my title against nineteen other guys.” Dean flops back onto the bed and immediately regrets it. He grips onto his shoulder and breathes out slowly. “And our tag match - it was fucking awful. I’m here to wrestle, not play mind games with a bunch of old, angry men who are near the end of their careers.”

“I hear you.” The bed dips beside him when Seth sits down. “Is your shoulder still hurting?”

Dean sighs and sits up. “It’s always hurting, Seth. Two matches in one night doesn’t help.”

Seth looks at him for a second before shuffling closer. “Take my hoodie off - and your shirt.”

“What?” Dean says, probably a little too quickly.

Seth rolls his eyes. “Just do it.”

So Dean takes of Seth’s hoodie and his shirt, ignoring the goosebumps forming along his skin. It’s just as cold in the hotel room as it is outside, Dean wonders how Seth is sitting there in shorts. He gently pushes the hoodie into Seth’s hands and notices that his own hands are still taped from tonight’s matches.

He starts unwinding the white and black tape from his hands. “You might want to wash that.”

Seth gets up and puts the hoodie into the washing machine along with their ring gear. When he sits back down, Dean watches as his usual smile drops instantly.

“What?” Dean prompts. He tosses the tape somewhere, and finds himself chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Seth’s finger tips trace along his ribs and his spine, gently grazing his skin. “You have so many bruises, Dean.”

Dean looks up and places his hands on top of Seth’s. “It’s fine, Seth.”

“It’s not.” Seth shakes his head. “Let me tape your shoulder.”

“Okay,” Dean replies. His bruises aren’t _that_ bad. He’s a wrestler, after all, he’s learned to deal with pain like this. But somehow, Seth’s concern makes the blooming purple splotches feel a little worse.

As usual, Seth’s touch is gentle. He’s taped Dean’s shoulder hundreds of times now, they’re used to this closeness. Dean is used to Seth’s chest resting against the length of his arm as his knees rest on the bed beside his own.

“I’m sorry you lost your title,” Seth tells him. He crosses his legs and drops the roll of medical tape in his lap.

Dean shrugs. “I’ve got a match with Sheamus tomorrow, maybe I’ll win it back.”

“You’re not mad?” Seth asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I’m mad,” Dean admits. Of course he’s mad about losing his title; he held it for almost a year. He's more than mad. That belt meant the world to him. “But I’m also ready for bed.”

“Do you wanna get some dinner first?” Seth suggests, a smile creeping back onto his face.

Dean smiles and lays back down on the bed. “Can we order burgers?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call room service.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for not updating! i hope this makes up for it.

Dean sits up in the empty bed, letting his spine click as a yawn escapes his lips. He squints as the light beams through the curtains, right onto the bed. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes roughly, hating Seth’s morning-person antics.

Without thinking twice, he gets out of the bed and closes the curtains. It’s only then that he realizes he’s wearing on of Seth’s shirts. It’s one of his band shirts, surely, because Dean can barely read the writing printed across the front.

He leaves the shirt on, despite its tendency to ride up and expose the pale skin that lies beneath. Dean gets to his morning routine and tries to ignore the stabbing pain blooming from his side.

Dean gets halfway through his fifty push-ups when Seth calls out his name from the bathroom.

“What?” He calls back, continuing to count; 29, 30, 31.

He hears the shower turn off, followed by a loud sigh. “Can you bring me a towel? Please.”

Dean can’t help but laugh as he grabs a towel off the dresser and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks twice on the door, biting his tongue to try and suppress his laugh. After all, Seth forgetting his towel is  _pretty funny_.

“Here you go.” Dean looks the other way as he passes the door through the small gap.

Seth takes the towel from him, letting their fingers brush against each other briefly before shutting the door. “Thanks, Dean.”

A few moments later, Seth’s walking out of the bathroom, glasses on and hair tied into a bun. Dean loves seeing him like this; he looks so soft around the edges.

“What kind of hotel doesn’t put towels in the bathroom.”

“This one?” Most of the time Dean checks to see that there are towels in the bathroom before showering, so he’s never really had this problem.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Seth says, changing topics completely.

Dean shrugs. “Yeah - I must have put it on during the night. It was kinda cold.”

“Just make sure you wash it before you give it back.” Seth squeezes his shoulder softly. The gesture is causal and small, but Dean wishes it meant more.

He takes his turn in the shower, being sure to take a towel in with him. When he comes out, Seth has packed up their things, ready to move on to the next city. On his way over to Seth, he pulls their clothes out from the dryer and sets them on the bed.

“You mind if I wear this?” Dean asks, pulling out Seth’s hoodie from the pile of clothes.

“Go ahead,” Seth replies. Dean thinks he sees Seth’s cheeks turn pink, but he’s probably imagining it.

They do a once over of the room and head downstairs to meet Roman. Dean and Seth are a little too early, and end up catching Roman and Tyler saying their goodbyes. Dean rolls his eyes, mostly because he’s incredibly jealous of their relationship (but if anyone asked he would tell them that PDA is not his thing).

“Ready to go?” Seth pipes up from beside Dean and he couldn’t feel more embarrassed if he tried. “We could give you another five minutes, if you want.”

Tyler’s face turns red as he stares at the ground. Roman seems to notice, because he wraps an arm protectively around his boyfriend’s shoulders and glares at Seth. Dean’s finds himself wishing that Seth would wrap him up and hold him like this.

Roman is saying something to Tyler, but Dean isn’t really listening; it isn’t any of his business. They kiss one more time (the last time for now, Dean hopes) before the three of them are heading out to the parking lot.

Seth puts their bags into the back of the car as an apology for being rude to Tyler.

“We’re getting food as soon as we get on the road,” Dean reminds them from the backseat. “I don’t care what it is, as long as I get it in the next fifteen minutes.”

“You want some company back there?” Seth asks, peering over from the passenger’s seat.

Dean shakes his head. “I’m good.”

He always rides in the backseat, always. Back when they actually had championship belts, the belts would sit beside him. Sometimes he would stare at them, thinking that they would fade away if he looked at something else for even a second.

The tag team titles were the first to go. Dean hoped that they would win them back; they spent hours trying to come up with a strategy to bring them home. Dean suggested taking the belts during a match and running away with them, but Seth and Roman were set on winning the gold back.

He doesn’t let himself think about the US championship at all. He’s convinced himself that he’s going to win it back tonight, so there’s no use in mourning the belt. The odds were stacked against him yesterday, but tonight it’s just him and Sheamus.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seth finishes wrapping the medical tape around Dean’s waist before starting on the bandages.

For the past ten minutes, Dean has been biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from hissing in pain. “I’ll be fine, Seth. Just finish the tape.”

He hears Seth sigh as he finishes up. Dean feels Seth’s cold fingers pull down his shirt with ease. He lets a line of shivers run down his spine.

“There you go, good as new.” Seth sits beside him, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the table.

Dean nudges his side. “You seem pretty relaxed for someone who has a match with Batista later on. What’s up with that?”

“We bet three of them at Extreme Rules, Dean. I think I can beat him alone. Have a little faith.” Seth’s laughing but his nose isn’t crinkling at the sides. Dean is fairly certain that he’s terrified, so he doesn’t push the conversation.

A lady with a headset walks up to Dean and tells him that it’s time for him to go to gorilla. He lets out a deep breath and hops off the table.

“Good luck out there,” Seth smiles, holding his fist out.

Dean bumps their hands together and smiles back. “You too. Be careful, okay? No ridiculous jumps.”

Seth nods, his smile shining through. It seems to light a fire in the pit of Dean’s stomach - it gives him something to fight for.

* * *

 

Dean’s match goes terribly. Just like that, his title is gone, wrapped around the waist of someone utterly undeserving. He had expected Sheamus to kick his ribs once, maybe twice. Instead, Sheamus focused on his ribs the whole time, opting to kick and slap fifty odd times rather than actually wrestle him.

Referees lead Dean backstage, down winding hallways that seem to go on forever. He asks where Roman and Seth are at least ten times, but every question is met by an ‘I don’t know’. The doctor takes off the sweat-drenched tape and replaces it with something cleaner. He gets told to rest for half an hour. To make matters worse someone is sitting by the door, making sure that he doesn’t leave.

Dean spends his time looking up at the ceiling, over-analysing every segment of his match, trying to work out where he went wrong. The bandage was his first mistake; he decides to forgo visible tape for his next couple of matches.

He loses track of time. After what feels like five minutes, the man by the door looms over him, and says that he can leave. Dean swings his legs off the table and gets to his feet. Without falling over, he makes his way out of the room and back to the locker room he shares with Roman and Seth.

Dean strips out of his ring gear and tosses it into a plastic bag, ready for the next hotel’s washing machine. As he’s slipping on a clean shirt, he notices a monitor in the corner of the room. Dean turns it on, watching the screen light up and flash with images.

He pulls up a chair and starts to take off the tape around his hands. Roman’s match with Mark seems to be going well. A surge of pride runs through Dean as Roman picks up the win. He wishes he could run out there with Seth and to celebrate, but all he’s allowed to do is sit back here and bites his nails.

The door clicks open and Roman walks in, towel slung around his neck.

“Nice match,” Dean says, smile spread across his face.

Roman ducks his head and whispers a small ‘thanks’. He grabs a chair and pulls it up beside Dean, eyes fixed on the small screen.

“You worried about Seth?” Roman asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says truthfully, ignoring the way his voice cracks towards the end of the word. “I don’t feel good about this match.”

They sit there in radio silence, watching Seth get thrown around the ring. When Batista wins by a count out, a wave of relief rushes over Dean because the match is over. His world comes crashing down only moments later when Seth gets thrown through an announce table with such  _force_. Dean’s eyes stay fixed on the screen, and all he can think about is Seth lying motionless between bits of broken table.

“Seth?” Dean finds himself whispering into the air, as if Seth could hear him. He feels Roman’s hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into the present.

“We should go see him,” Roman says, his voice urgent.

All Dean can do is nod. He follows Roman, his surroundings a blur until he’s outside the doctor’s office. He bangs on the door, gritting his teeth together as red clouds his vision.

“Why won’t they let me in?” Dean’s yelling at Roman. He knows it isn’t his fault, but he can’t stop. “Why won’t they let me see him?”

He paces up and down the hallway, letting Roman’s words going in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t know how long he’s pacing for, but when the door opens for the first time, Dean’s ears instantly perk up at the sound.

Seth walks out, holding his arms around his waist like he’s trying to hold himself together. His steps are everything but steady as he stumbles towards to the two of them. Dean feels his eyes brim with tears as he wraps his arms around Seth.

“Seth, are you okay?” Dean knows it’s a stupid question but he asks it anyway.

In response, Seth makes a noise that Dean never wants to hear again. He looks to Roman, who looks just as shocked as he does.

“We’re going right now,” Dean tells him. “I’ll take him to the car.”

Roman simply nods, agreeing. “I’ll grab our stuff from the locker room and meet you there.”

Dean and Seth get a few hopeless metres before stopping.

“I’ll carry you, Seth. I don’t care,” Dean says, just to make sure he knows it.

When he doesn’t get a response from Seth, he scoops him up in his arms. Seth’s laughing softly against his chest and it makes Dean’s eyes light up. They make it to the car before Roman, so Dean puts Seth down, letting him sit on the hood of the car. He digs his hands into his pockets, only to realize that Roman must have the keys.

“I don’t have the keys,” Dean sighs, frustrated. “We’re just gonna have to wait.”

“It’s fine,” Seth shrugs.

After a few minutes, Dean realizes that he’s standing between Seth’s thighs. He thinks that he might be invading Seth’s personal space, so he goes to step back. As he moves away, Seth weakly grabs hold of his wrists, pulling him back in.

“Don’t do that,” Seth whispers, tracing his thumb against Dean’s wrist.

Dean feels his cheeks grow hot. “Do what?”

“Walk away,” Seth tells him. “Or look somewhere other than my face because you don’t want to look me in the eye.”

He quirks an eyebrow at him. Surely Seth never noticed his looks; he was always alert enough not to linger. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

Dean’s cut off by Seth pulling him in, pressing their lips together softly. Seth kisses so carefully, it’s as if the world is about to end at this is the last kiss he’ll ever give. Dean knows that he’s being dramatic, but he’s nestled between Seth’s thighs in the middle of a parking lot, getting the kiss of his life.

He realizes that he's cupping Seth’s jaw when they pull away. Dean keeps them there, letting the pad of his thumb drag against his bottom lip. Seth’s nose brushes against his as he leans down to kiss him again, but their almost knock heads when a voice startles them.

“Ready to go?” Roman mimics. “I could give you another five minutes.”

Dean watches as Seth’s jaw drops. “We were having a moment!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to leave me a comment!!

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!! // [find me on tumblr](http://ohfemslash.tumblr.com/)


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